Emma used to dive into subjects also, but as she got older, she just didn’t care. She went from knowing everything about everything, to knowing who was dating whom in her school (and Hollywood) and what hair product was best. She still got solid grades, but something was missing once she hit middle school. A certain drive. It just seemed like she didn’t care and if she did, she certainly didn’t show it. I bought books on encouraging girls to embrace academics and grow up confident and wise. But, every time I tried to employ any of the tricks – from lavish praise to ultimatums (from a self-published book by the Teen Whisperer) —I was met with an eye roll and a spit out, “Why do you want to make my life a living hell?”
I can’t believe I ever thought it was hard having toddlers. Toddlers are physically exhausting, but teenagers are emotionally exhausting. I was terrified to see Emma again after everything that had happened, more terrified to tell her that her father was moving out—she would certainly find a way to blame it on me. If she thought my trying to help her excel in school made her life a living hell, what would she think about her parents’ marriage falling apart?
Trevor and Will would probably bounce back easier than Emma and Sam. For one thing, they had each other. Yes, at eleven and nine years old, there were tons of fights that left me shaking and swearing under my breath, but they often teamed up against Emma and Sam—if either of them got on Trevor and Will’s bad sides for one reason or another. Emma wanted to watch some singing show, not baseball, or she stayed in the bathroom with the door locked doing her hair for twenty minutes. Sam could do the smallest thing and raise their ire—Trevor and Will were both convinced that Sam stole their thunder and got all of the attention in the house and was without a doubt the favorite child. So, despite the fights that threatened blood, they bonded over their annoyance with both him and Emma. Plus, they were both obsessed with sports and video games, enough to distract them, hopefully from what they were about to go through—at least a bit. They could shoot hoops or play Xbox and forget about their problems. It was Emma and Sam whom I worried about more.
For the moment, Sam was happy as could be that we were going to the park. “Hang on a second,” I told him, as I stopped and pulled my cell phone out of my purse. “I just need to make a quick call—I bet you would love to have Logan meet us at the park, right?” Sam started jumping up and down and I took that as a yes.
I dialed Andi’s number to ask if she and her son Logan wanted to meet us. She didn’t answer with “hello,” “hi” or any pleasantries—just a “What the fuck? You don’t tell me that you’re splitting with Nick before you announce it on Facebook?”
Andi could be a bit abrasive, to say the least. The moms at Happy Time drove her out of the preschool because they couldn’t take her tell it like it is attitude. She certainly didn’t make any friends calling moms with live-in nannies out when they complained about how busy and tired they were. Nor did she endear herself to anyone when she told one mom that despite her boob job/tummy tuck, spray tan, fake nails and dripping diamonds, she was still a “classless bitch.” To be fair, the mom’s son had bit Logan and the mom had said loudly that she hoped her son didn’t catch anything. After Logan’s first year at Happy Time, Andi left and went to the earthy crunchy co-op preschool on the other side of town, because as she put it, “I’m not out of place if I forget to shave my armpits and the only time the moms will berate you is when they find out you’re not still nursing your four-year-old.”
She started again, only this time her voice was softer. “Seriously, Max—I was so worried about you when I saw that. I was just about to call you. What’s going on? It’ll take me a while to get over your sharing your split with Facebook before me, but I’m here for you—you know that.”
I knew if I started talking, I would start crying. Andi is one of the few people I open up to in this town—she may ruffle feathers, but she is fiercely loyal and honest. She would never betray a secret, something I can’t say for most of the other moms I know. They would stab you in the back in a second, given the chance. I swallowed hard and simply told her to meet me at “our” park as soon as she could. She said she’d be there right after picking up Logan.
There was another, bigger park right across the street from Happy Time, but it attracted a big after-preschool crowd. It reminded me of college when, after the bars closed, we’d all head to the same after-hours party. This was the after-hours park. There, all of the fancy moms showed off their French pedicures in their Tory Burch flip-flops and peered through their Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses at their iPhones while the kids played. After a few weeks of feeling like outcasts in our Nikes and sweats, Andi and I found a little pocket park tucked away in a neighborhood a few streets away from the school. It was perfect—just a few benches, a jungle gym and some swings. Best of all, we were the only ones there.
While I waited at the park for Andi, I made a list on the back of a CVS receipt I fished out of my bag of all the things I needed to do to get my life back on track. Contact lawyer (or find lawyer); tell kids—figure out how to tell kids; look for job—or start business from home, catering? Pastries? Cake? Cookies? I thought about that last one—I had always wanted to start a business from home. Nick always discouraged me, because of all the paperwork and licenses needed to run any food business out of your own kitchen. Every time I brought it up, he’d sigh and say, “Max, really—do you think it’s worth it?”
“It’s so worth it,” I said out loud, just as Andi walked up with a frozen yogurt in each hand.
She handed me mine and asked, “What’s so worth it?”
I took a spoonful of my frozen yogurt—alpine vanilla with chopped up Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, my favorite—swallowed and answered, “The cookie business I’ve always wanted to start. Nick always told me it wasn’t worth the effort, but now I’m unfettered, unchained. I can do whatever I want.”
“I remember that,” Andi said. “So infuriating. You’re better off without him.”
“I know—you’re right. It’s just so crazy and sad. I can’t believe we’re over,” I sighed and took another spoonful of frozen yogurt. “Hey, thanks for getting me my favorite, even if it’s boring.”
That was another sticking point with Nick. It annoyed him that I always ordered vanilla frozen yogurt, instead of trying something new, like pomegranate or cheesecake. Maybe that was his problem with me in bed, too—I was too vanilla. He wanted something exotic—pomegranate swirled with dark chocolate—and I was just plain old vanilla. I wondered if Sloane was more exotic—pomegranate to my vanilla in bed – and if that’s why Nick fell into an affair with her.
Andi settled down on the bench next to me as the boys played on the jungle gym and turned to me. “Now tell me everything.”
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t even know if I could—it was just too humiliating. Andi answered my silence with, “Come on, you can tell me. You know I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
I took a deep breath and just let it fly, “Nick is having an affair with Sloane Williams. I’m sorry, Sloane Silver Williams. And, she sent a video of me and Nick having sex that he took on his cell phone to Emma. Oh, and she uploaded it to an amateur porn site for women and even tweeted the link. I mean who really even goes to those sites? How many women are into porn?”
Andi just stared at me, a spoonful of chocolate yogurt paused midway to her mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Her hand flew to her mouth when she noticed the boys only a few feet away, sending a glob of yogurt onto her pale pink shirt.
“Don’t worry, they didn’t hear,” I assured her. Andi could have a bit of a potty mouth. But, she does watch her herself when the kids are around. She also has a son the same age as Emma, Michael. That’s how we met—when we took a Mommy and Me class together when they were toddlers. I remember she’d come up with interesting alternatives to her salty language back then. “Funyuns!” she’d shout when Michael ran away from her in the mall or even “Fajitas!” when he smacked her in the head with a plastic b
at once.
“How did this all happen?” she asked. “And, more importantly, when did you start making sex videos, you vixen?”
“I’m definitely not a vixen or, clearly, my husband wouldn’t be having an affair. He wanted to make a video and I thought it would keep him from cheating on me for some reason. I thought he could just watch it and you know – umm, take care of himself. Obviously, I was wrong.”
I swallowed hard, blinking back the tears while Andi rubbed my back. After a moment I looked her in the eye and said slowly, “You need to tell me if you knew about this; if anyone knew about it. Okay? I need to know how much of a fool I was.” I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to know, but I had to know. “Has everyone been whispering about me at the PTA meetings like they did about poor Barbara when her husband cheated on her with the Starbucks barista and everyone stopping for their morning latte saw them kissing next to the dumpster? Did he not realize that it was on the side of the building in plain sight?” I shook my head and sighed. “Seriously, what is wrong with these men?”
“No, I didn’t know—I would have told you, I swear. And really, I don’t think anyone knew. Sloane doesn’t do PTA things, so that’s a whole set of moms who would have no idea. She hangs out with the rich and spoiled. Do you care what they think?”
“Um—yeah. At this point I kind of care what everyone thinks. How could I not?”
“Well, by just not caring. It’s not that hard. I’ve perfected it over the years and I’m much happier than when I used to worry about what people thought of me.”
“You worried about what people thought of you? I figured you were born not giving a shit.”
“I used to care a lot, but once I had kids I realized they were the only ones who mattered. After a while not caring just got easier and easier—it’s freeing. I honestly couldn’t care less what any of the other moms think of me now.”
I hate it, but I care what the other moms think of me—I’m always worried that I’ve offended someone or that someone is talking about me. And the whole nightmare that I found myself in just brought all of those anxieties to a boil. I kept thinking—well maybe they’re not talking about me at the middle school, but maybe they are at the elementary school, even if Sloane didn’t have a kid there. “How do you do it, Andi?” I ask quietly.
“You just need to shut out all of the noise. Right now, you need to be in survival mode—just get through this and don’t worry about anyone but your kids.”
“That’s the thing, though—I’m worried that my kids will hear about everything somehow if there are rumors floating around. I need to tell them on my own terms. Emma’s life is already ruined—she saw the video and refuses to come home. She thinks it’s all my fault and I can’t tell her otherwise right now. It’s just a big mess.”
“Just promise your kids that you’ll keep taking care of them and that you love them. Emma’ll come around eventually. Tell them that it wasn’t anything they did—you and Daddy just grew apart.”
“No, you’re right. I’ll figure out the kids—I guess it’s the video that’s terrifying me right now.” I kind of felt at that moment like my head was going to explode. Just poof—bits of my overtaxed brain raining down over the playground, like so much confetti. Dealing with my husband having an affair would have been bad enough, but dealing with him having an affair and having the sex video out there was just too much for me to process. I looked down at my cup of yogurt. It was a puddled mess of vanilla and soggy peanut butter cups. I took a bite anyway, hoping the endorphins in the chocolate would help my state of mind.
“Do you think anyone even goes on the site—desperatesexy…” I barely whispered.
Before I could finish, Andi finished for me, “…housewives?”
“How did you know?” I asked incredulously. “Don’t tell me you’ve been on it.”
Andi looked sheepish. “Well, you know Matt travels a lot and I get bored. If he’s not traveling, he’s working late. Wait, do you think he’s having an affair too?”
“No way. Matt worships the ground you walk on—he’d never have an affair,” Within five minutes of meeting Matt I could see how smitten he was with Andi, staring at her with such reverence and telling me how lucky he was to have her. Matt fought lymphoma when they were dating and Andi stuck by his side through chemo and everything that went along with it. He kept telling her to find someone healthy to have a family and share a life with, but Andi refused to leave and when Matt was officially in remission, she asked him to marry her.
Andi knew Matt wouldn’t ask her, because he was afraid she would say “Yes” out of duty or even worse, pity. His cancer returned when Michael was three and he beat it again. He works long hours, because he never knows when he won’t be able to work, not because of an affair—but, I would never tell Andi that. The specter of relapse is unspoken in our friendship. It might be unrealistic not to talk about it, but it’s a respite from fear. “He would never stray. You know you have the best husband in East Hollow.”
“I know. He’s pretty amazing, isn’t he? But, Nick seemed so perfect too—in a million years, I never would have thought that he’d cheat on you. I remember I watched him ogle you at the pool last summer and thought—wow, he still has the hots for her.”
“If Sloane belonged to the town pool and not the fancy-schmancy East Hollow Country Club, then he would have been ogling her instead of me. It was all fake. Can you believe he told me he’s a sex addict and needs help? That’s just a lame ass excuse for bad behavior. Or maybe he really is an addict and needed an outlet, because I asked him to stop looking at porn.”
“Um, kind of two different things. I’m guessing he wouldn’t say, ‘Well, if I can’t look at porn, I may as well have an affair. He probably would have just ignored you and kept doing it. Porn’s really not that bad, you know. I told you—I enjoy the occasional video here and there.”
“So, you’ve gone on desperatesexyhousewives.com? Did you see my video and you’re just not telling me?”
“No, definitely not,” Andi answered quickly. “I haven’t gone on it in a while. It’s not like I’m a regular, but maybe Sloane is, since she uploaded it. I hate to tell you, though—it’s probably more popular than you think.”
I put my head in my hands. This nightmare was growing. “Who else do you know who goes on it?”
“Well, I overheard some women at the gym talking about it. They said they check in pretty regularly. That’s how I heard about it. At least it’s classier than all the sites the guys go to.”
“Well, that makes me feel much better.”
“Look, I’m just saying there are worse places the video could end up. At least this site is tastefully done and caters to women.”
“It does seem to cater to a different crowd. This blogger named Kristy S.—she calls herself a ‘domestic manager’—wrote about me and said that I’m hot.”
“That’s so awesome! Well, there’s the silver lining in all this—maybe you’ll finally believe that you’re hot when I tell you!”
“Thank you for trying to make me feel better. But no, Andi—I really don’t think there’s a silver lining in anything,” I shook my head. “Maybe someday I’ll see it, but right now I feel like there’s absolutely nothing good about this situation at all and I just know it’ll get worse. Soon everyone in the PTA will know about it. Everyone in the East Hollow Little League will know about it. Everybody at the high school will know about it and my daughter will have to be homeschooled. Only she won’t want to be homeschooled because she hates me, so she’ll probably drop out and end up on 16 and Pregnant fighting with her delinquent boyfriend and hoping to get a shot on Dancing with the Stars someday. So much for college and grad school. I’ve ruined her life and she’s only in ninth grade.”
“Breathe, Max. You haven’t ruined her life. These things happen. Not often, I would imagine, but I’m sure they happen.”
“I’m sorry, but I just know I’ve ruined all my kids’ lives, though Sam may stand a
chance, because he’s so young. Will and Trevor will forever be humiliated and probably never have a healthy relationship with any woman. They already talk about body parts way too much. What if they become sex addicts like Nick claims he is or some sort of deviants? Why did I let him record me?” With that statement, I started to cry. Even though I always hated crying in front of people—hated the way it made me look and hated feeling out of control—I couldn’t help it.
Andi fished a pack of tissues out of her bag and handed it to me. “Trevor and Will are boys and boys talk about penises and body parts all the time. That’s what they do, whether it’s to shock us or to test us or just because they think it’s funny, who knows? That doesn’t mean they’ll be sex addicts. And, hopefully they won’t see the video. I can’t get over the fact that the evil bitch sent it to Emma. That’s just so sick and twisted. She should be brought up on charges.”
“I know, but I can’t prove that she sent it and not Ashley. I wish there was something I could do to make her pay.”
“You know, I’m sure I have a picture from high school of Sloane with her old nose,” Andi said with a bit of a cackle. “I remember her yearbook photo was hideous. Maybe you should post it on Facebook. That would serve her right.”
I was about to tell Andi to send it to me when her phone chimed a text alert. “Hold on a sec. Matt had a doctor’s appointment and he’s supposed to text me when he’s done,” she said as she pulled her cell phone out of her bag. She glanced at it and her eyes grew wide. She looked at me sideways, panic stricken.
“Is it Matt?” I whispered.
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